


Someone will sing for me

by Alex__trash



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Afterlife, Anger, Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Death, Denial, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Post March 1st stream, Processing Death, Spoilers, Three part story, TommyInnit Is Dead, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, dying, major character death is tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex__trash/pseuds/Alex__trash
Summary: Tommy's death came out of nowhere, and now everyone is struggling to process.
Kudos: 46
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Someone will sing for me

**Author's Note:**

> Hamilton based because L'manburg be like that. Spoilers for March 1st stream, pretty short. I am still processing Tommy's death, I think I've been in every stage of grief at least twice by now. It's all good :)

Who lives?

It had to be some kind of joke, some kind of misunderstanding. There was no way Tommy was dead, he couldn’t be gone. He just couldn’t, Tubbo refused to believe it. Dream wouldn’t kill Tommy, he said he needed him. Dream was a notable liar, but Tubbo knew he was telling the truth. Down in that vault, with Dream threatening his life, Tubbo believed he wasn’t lying. Hearing Tommy was dead, it just didn’t make sense. It was always supposed to be Tubbo, he could go and Tommy would be fine. Tubbo on the other hand? He was lost without Tommy, he learned as much during exile.

Exile, Tommy had died there too. Dream told him as much, so why should Tubbo believe him now. Tommy was still alive, still trapped in that cell with Dream. He had to be, there was no other explanation. Tubbo mourned his best friend enough times, he refused to mourn him again when he had to be alive. What did Sam know? What did Ranboo know? They were all fools, all too sad to realize they’re wrong.

Tubbo couldn’t outlive Tommy, that wasn’t the plan. It happened, but if he ignored it enough it would just go away. Tommy would burst through the door any minute now, shouting about how much of a bastard Dream is. He would be right, but Tubbo would roll his eyes and ask ‘did anything important happen?’ They would talk, and joke, and their hotels would stand as a reminder of their friendly banter. Tommy would be Tubbo’s best man if he and Ranboo ever had a real wedding service. Tommy would say he wasn’t jealous, but his red cheeks would give him away. That was the plan, and it was all buried alongside Tommy.

Well, he wasn’t actually buried. An empty coffin was lowered into the ground, a shabby tombstone placed above it. Tubbo didn’t go to the burial, and he wouldn’t go to the funeral. Tommy was alive, there was no reason to be there. Ranboo told him news of the prison, news of Dream, news of Tommy’s body. It didn’t matter, Tommy would come back any day now.

He had to.

Who dies?

Tommy had died before, but permanent death was different. It hurt a lot less, for starters. One second, his head was throbbing in pain, Dream’s fist coming down on his face over and over. The next, the pain simply disappeared, and his vision was white. He realized pretty quickly that he was dead, why else would he be here? This was the afterlife, and it wasn’t all that great. He didn’t really know what he expected honestly, at least he wasn’t in hell. Seeing Wilbur and Schlatt should not have been a surprise, but their wide eyes made him confused.

The Wilbur here was not Ghostbur, no it was the man who had died on November 16th. Long, brown trench coat, and chest stained with blood. At least he looked somewhat normal, Schlatt had blank eyes and looked disheveled. They looked the same as they had the moment of their death, and at that revelation Tommy wondered what he looked like. Would his eyes be blank, like Schlatt? Would he have blood on his face where Dream had hit him, like Wilbur? He really was dead, just like the two of them.

“Tommy?”

Wilbur’s voice was not floaty, in fact it was rather solid. If Tommy had to guess, which he kind of did, he would assume that he heard him normally due to his own deceased nature. If someone else was there, maybe Wilbur would sound ghostly. Maybe Tommy would have that same vocal float, he was a ghost after all. There wasn’t time to worry about that, it was time to worry about Wilbur.

“You said ‘see you soon’ right?"

The attempt at a joke didn’t go very well, Wilbur looked like he was going to cry. To be fair, he was crying when he died so maybe it was just that. It felt a little different though, these looked sad. When Wilbur died, he had cried of happiness and pain. Tommy didn’t like to think about that too much. Schlatt laughed, of course he did. The bottle of alcohol clutched in his hand sloshed around as he pointed towards the newest addition to the after life.

“Really kid? Why’d it gotta be you?”

He was drunk, Tommy didn’t think ghosts could get drunk. Maybe it was that whole ‘died like he lived’ thing again, Schlatt was drunk when he died. He really needed to keep his brain on track, focus on answering the questions. His head hurt, but in a different way than before. Damn, it was hard to keep focused.

“What’s that supposed to mean, asshole?”

“Tommy, what Schlatt means is, why are you here?”

“Well, I’m dead, innit?”   


“How?”

“What’d ya mean, how? Dream beat my ass to a pulp, and I woke up here. Guess that killed me.”

Suddenly Tommy felt arms around him, Wilbur wrapping the younger boy in his embrace. Instantly, he leaned into the contact. Even when ghostbur was around, Tommy couldn’t hug his brother. They hadn’t hugged since the election, and Tommy missed the connection. Somewhere in the background, Schlatt scoffed but it didn’t matter. Tommy was safe here, in Wilbur’s arms. 

“You shouldn’t be here, I’m sorry.”

The words were spoken in such a way that Tommy almost broke down right then and there. God, he missed his brother, but this wasn’t how they were supposed to be reunited. This sucked, Tommy decided. Being dead sucked, dying sucked, but Wilbur was perfect. He always was, what else would he be. 

Who tells your story?

Ranboo was exhausted, and everything kept going wrong. They were supposed to be free, Dream was supposed to be powerless. He never got close with Tommy, that position was always held by Tubbo, but he liked the kid well enough. Sure, he could be annoying, but he was just a kid. Everyone said they would protect the children of the server. Tommy should never have been in that situation, and now he was dead.

People grieve in different ways, that’s why there’s stages. While Tubbo seems stuck in denial, Ranboo was stuck in anger. He was mad, everyone around him seemed to move on already. They were celebrating, they were happy that a child was dead. None of them understood pain, no one understood.

Someone should have helped, they could’ve done something. That was hypocritical of him to say, don’t throw stones from glass houses and whatnot. Still, he was just a child himself, what was he meant to do? Sam should’ve done something, why did the security issue require something like that? Why was he still following protocols made by the man imprisoned? Ranboo knew he shouldn’t judge, but Sam seemed to know his own faults.

Tommy’s legacy would live on, even if Tubbo refused to admit his friend was gone. Ranboo planted seeds around the young soldier’s home, knowing that secretly Tommy loved flowers. The jukebox next to the bench sat in pristine condition, despite never being used. It felt wrong, in a way, to even sit on that bench without Tommy.

Often Ranboo would catch Tubbo sitting there, looking off at the sunset, still processing the truth of his friend's demise. Ranboo didn’t interrupt, it wasn’t his place. He knew that Tubbo was struggling with outliving Tommy, and he likely blamed himself. Ranboo had no place to speak to his husband, he just prayed that the Tubbo he knew would return.

The BigInnit hotel sat unused, the robotic Sam Nook standing proudly at the entrance. He would ask passers-by where Tommy was, no one had the heart to tell him. Sam didn’t even have the heart to shut the robot down, a reminder of his failure. The construction on the Bee & Boo hotel had also halted, neither one of them having the need to continue. They built that hotel to have a friendly competition with Tommy, and he died without ever seeing his hotel full. He never got to realize his ambitions, fighting until the very end. 

The grave site was pitiful, but at least they had one. Captain Puffy made sure no one would desecrate the grave, guilty about her failure to protect Tommy. The grave was upsetting, and Ranboo often played Mellohi on a nearby jukebox when he visited, it felt right. It wasn’t Tommy’s Mellohi, that was in his enderchest, but it felt right to have that memory.

When Ranboo found Techno kneeling at the grave, he was a little surprised. He’s seen the way the warrior had reacted to the news, completely apathetic. Of course, there was more to it than that. Of course he cared, Tommy and Wilbur were like his brothers. Now they both remained in the afterlife, and Phil only has one life, and Technoblade never dies.

Ranboo didn’t like telling the news of Tommy’s death, so now he would go and spread stories and praise for the young man. Telling over and over how Tommy was the most loyal person he’d ever met, how he protected Ranboo, how he always was ready to protect others. It was nice to tell the stories of Tommy, to make sure his legacy was intact. 

It seems the symphony of L’manburg, of Wilbur and Tommy, was doomed to never be finished. Or maybe this was the finale after all, a bitter ending to a bitter story. Yeah, that seemed fitting enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory, is this where it gets me? On my feet, sev'ral feet ahead of me? I see it coming; do I run, or find my gun, or let it be? There's no beat, no melody. Burr, my first friend, my enemy. Maybe the last face I ever see. If I throw away my shot, is this how you'll remember me? What if this bullet is my legacy? Legacy. What is a legacy? It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me. America, you great unfinished symphony, you sent for me. You let me make a difference, a place where even orphan immigrants can leave their finger prints and rise up. I'm running out of time, I'm running and my time's up, wise up, eyes up. I catch a glimpse of the other side; Laurens leads a soldier's chorus on the other side, my son is on the other side. He's with my mother on the other side, Washington is watching from the other side. Teach me how to say goodbye. Rise up, rise up, rise up, Eliza? My love, take your time. I'll see you on the other side. Raise a glass to freedom.


End file.
